Gamzee, There's Blood On Your Hands
by Lunyhime95
Summary: He laments his inability to regain control, but there really is no one to blame but himself.
1. Gamzee, There's Blood On Your Hands

A/N: My feels...so I binge read Homestuck, probably not the best idea as I was unprepared for all the emotional feels that I didn't effin' ask for

Please, Enjoy...

* * *

Look

.

.

.

 **Gamzee.**

 **Hey...**

 **Look...**

 **Gamzee, there's blood on your hands.**

 _Stop it._

 **Wow, would you just look at all the pretty colors? Shall I recount them to you?**

 _I said stop._

 **Hmmm~ Let's see...Oh! Isn't this a rather strong blue? Didn't it belong to that rather masochistic friend of yours? The one you strangled with his own bow, and the mothafucker just smiled like it was getting him off~? Remember that?**

 _No... just shut the fuck up already..._

 **Oh, but that was just the beginning! Even though he hid her first to keep her safe, what did his little moirail do? Gave us this nasty scratch, didn't she?**

 _You deserved that, you fucker..._

 **Man, the crunch of her little bones, though! Ahh, such lovely olive hues...Such a cute tiny thing, really. What a shame...**

 _Shut the fuck up..._

 **But it seems like some of your friends were already at each others throat. Like the Ampora boy-**

 _Stop..._

 **-killing off the little princess, a shame too, that we couldn't end her with our own hands-**

 _Just..._

 **-And such pretty colors the sea dwellers had! That deep violet and bubbly fuschia~**

 _Stop that_

 **It's a shame about the other one though, you know, the rainbow drinker? Her jade green would have been absolutely stunning! Think of the miracles-**

 _I've had it with your false miracles..._

 **Don't be like that, now...We've even got the spider-girl's cerulean drippings. And the Summoner boy...well, I wouldn't exactly say that rusty brown is attractive-**

 _Shut up! He was a beautiful color!_

 **But you know what would be even more beautiful, the most truly beautiful color of miracles?**

 _Just stop already!_

 **Better than the zippy teal, better than honey yellow, and better than carmine rust~**

 _Shut your motherfuckin' mouth..._

 **That sweet, sweet, bright candy red...**

 _...No..._

 **Sweet as cotton candy, and redder than the fruit of sin. Do you know of whom I speak, Bard?**

 _NO! YOU CAN'T HAVE HIM! I WON'T LET YOU-_

 **Let me what to your moirail? Touch him? Lovingly caress him as the light leaves his eyes, and his lovely mutant blood drains from each wound _WE_ carve into his skin!? He's the one who frowns a lot too, isn't he? Hey, I have an idea, Gamzee...**

 _NOO! I SAID STOP!_

 **Why don't we make him smile forever?**

 _STOP IT! YOU CAN'T HAVE HIM!_

 **It would be so simple, too. Just take his little sickle away from him, and he's practically defenseless-**

 _I WON'T LET YOU!_

 **And just ever so gently place it in the corner of his mouth-**

 _STOP IT YOU FUCKER!_

 **AND MOTHAFUCKING PULL AT THAT BITCH'S SKIN! GIVE 'IM THE BIGGEST DAMN MOTHERFUCKIN' GRIN FULL OF OUR MIRTHFUL MIRACLES! AIN'T THAT THE MOST MOTHERFUCKIN' BEAUTIFUL GIFT WE CAN GIVE HIS LOWBLOOD ASS!?**

 _YOU EVEN TOUCH HIM, I'LL MOTHERFUCKIN' ROT YOU THE FUCK OUTTA MY THINKPAN, MOTHERFUCKIN' TOXINS BE DAMNED!_

 **AWWW, WELL WOULDJA JUST LOOKIT THAT?! YOU ACTUALLY CARE. IS THAT HOW PALE YOUR MOTHERFUCKIN' AFFECTIONS RUN?! BUT THE MUTANT BLOOD IS NOTHING TO US! HE IS OF THE LOWEST SCUM OF OUR KIND, SHOULD BE ALL KINDS OF MOTHERFUCKIN' THANKFUL THAT HIS BLOOD IS PRETTY ENOUGH TO INSCRIBE OUR MIRACLES!**

 _I'M GOIN' MOTHERFUCKIN' KILL YOU!_

 **AIN'T HE ALSO KINDA SMALL LOOKIN'? ALL MOTHERFUCKIN' SHORT 'N EVERYTHIN'?! I GOTTA WONDER IF HE'D MAKE A GOOD PAIL VESSEL!**

 _YOU'RE MOTHERFUCKIN' SICK! I WON'T LET YOU LAY A DAMN MOTHERFUCKIN' FINGER ON HIM!_

 **Hm...We'll see about that, fairly soon as a matter o'fact, my Juggalo brother.**

 **By the way, Gamzee...**

 **There's blood on your hands...**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

* * *

A/N: I am just absolutely horrible, ain't I?

R&R!


	2. Drown Clown

A/N: ...coddammit, i hate what this fandom is doing to me...

Okay, who's ready for a spin on the FEELS-COASTER? Anyone?

Enjoy~!

* * *

Drown Clown

.

.

.

It's like you've fallen into biting, cold water, sinking farther and farther down, all up and trying to kick your damned hardest back up, but you ain't getting any closer to the motherfuckin' surface.

You were up there once, sitting on the dock of your sopor-sickened thinkpan and staring into the deep where the voices usually come from. Just sitting up there, wondering how you were gonna up and make more pie, of course it never was for the taste, it was always for the sheer mirthful bliss that stopped up all those voices from bouncing around in your high as fuck thinkpan.

You even wonder if your lusus might come out of those silent waves, already knowing the answer.

And then, just like that, as the voices kept getting louder and louder, some motherfucker comes right up behind you and pushes you off the dock.

Only, it was actually yourself.

Except...it also wasn't.

This false you is covered in colors, with three long scars going down his face, but he doesn't stop there, he now hangs off the dock, icy hands, as fuckin' cold as the water, around your neck, holding you down, and you can just barely muster the strength to keep your airhole out of the swallowing waves.

He smiles something dark and sinister with your face and it makes you almost terrified to think that this is how others might see you.

While you can't do nothing but thrash like a wriggler, the water starts swirling with colors...

First to blue, then green, and you shamefully admit that you probably would have liked to watch the colors mix around in the water like a miracle, had you not been trying to get out.

You see Kanaya for a moment, and how could you not? The sun-sister be glowing brighter than the flitter-lights that used to come out at night by your hive. She tries to help you, but then she ups and disappears, and the false you tightens his long, cold fingers on your airtube even more.

As you flail, you start seeing things that you know shouldn't up and be here, like the long-limbed doll that's got itself all motherfuckin' wrapped around this false fucker's self.

You struggle, and struggle, and struggle...all up until you finally get a miracle in your sight-holes.

It's Karkat, your palemate, your diamondbro, your loudest motherfuckin' miraculous invertabrother. Karkat who pities you despite your juggalo self. Karkat who's all up and getting his righteous beat-up down on this fake motherfucker. Karkat who is pulling you up on out that cold-ass water, colder than your cuttlesister.

Karkat who has you all wrapped up in his hot, hot, sun-hot arms now, papping your face, back, and chest, shooshing you until you can't feel the horrorterrors anymore, planting the palest kisses across your throat, your ear, your cheek, giving your cold-blooded hands warm squeezes with his hot-blooded ones.

And he makes you feel like everything is gonna up and be alright now, despite the feeling you have that nothing is okay, and that everything is wrong, and that you've done something motherfuckin' downright bad.

But he tells you it's okay, so you believe him.

.

.

.

As soon as Karkat is gone, the fake motherfucker takes advantage and pulls you back down under the waves. This time, you can't keep yourself above, and the deeper you go, the less you can see, 'til all you got up in your sight is that motherfuckin' ugly doll.

...You really want Karkat to come back.

* * *

A/N: :'(

My poor Juggalo baby...


End file.
